


But I'm Only Human

by natashabartin



Category: Ultimate Spider-Man (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 12:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2191020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natashabartin/pseuds/natashabartin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody as young as him is prepared for death, even in their line of work. You expect you'll be fine, that everybody you know and care about will be, but deep down, you know that's not true. And when the truth comes to light in moments like these, you realize how dangerous your ignorance truly was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But I'm Only Human

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry. Written for a prompt on Tumblr. Note the 'chose not to use archive warnings.'
> 
> Btw, in this they're about eighteen, and have been dating a couple of years. Title from the song [Human by Christina Perri](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2X43XF8247E).

In the movies, they always show dramatic, life-changing moments as slowed down, and you see every specific, sometimes horrifying detail in slow motion. Because, after all, this is your _life_ , and it's _changing_. It has to be something momentous and dramatic, and a lot of people seem to think that time will slow down for them like that when and if anything like that happens. Peter certainly thought so.

But it's not like that. No, instead, everything goes faster than normal, and it's all _done_ in the blink of an eye. You don't see every detail but you wish you had, you wish time slows down so that you could _think_ , so that you could _do something_ , but it doesn't, and you can't. And then you're sitting there with the man you love dying in your arms.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Peter chants, and behind that is the sound of Sam's shallow, struggling breathing, his blue eyes still looking shocked from when the knife had entered his stomach and _twisted,_ only to get tugged out and for blood to come gushing, too fast, _too_ fast for Peter to _save_ him. Peter lifts his mask, looking over him. "You're okay. You're okay. Hey, look at me."

Sam's wide blue eyes are suddenly on Peter's, his head turning to acknowledge him. He's just acknowledging that he's been stabbed, you can tell by the way his hands are suddenly pressing down on his wound, the way his breathing has gotten faster, more panicked. "Peter--"

"No, don't, just relax, yeah?" Peter says, and his mind is moving a thousand miles an hour, but it's still not enough to keep up with the situation. What happened? What's happening? What's going on around them? It's a blur, all he can see is red, it's coating Sam's tan hands and soaking his dark shirt. It's too familiar--Uncle Ben is in the forefront of his mind, the memories of him laying shot on the sidewalk, bleeding out before he could do anything.

He's having a panic attack, he realizes, and he _can't_ be doing this right now. Sam just got _stabbed_ , this isn't about him; this is about Sam possibly losing his life, losing his future, his _bright_ future. He forces himself to calm down, makes himself take deep breaths and _think_.

Everything comes back, and it's like being hit by a train--it wasn't a knife. It was a dagger; Taskmaster's, to be specific. Peter looks up and around him, and he's still there, along with his henchmen, fighting the rest of their team and now, some of the Avengers. They must have arrived just after Sam got stabbed.

Peter has Sam and him shielded behind a barrier, and it's like they're in their own little bubble right now. He doesn't have enough control over himself to process exactly where they are, only that he has to put pressure on Sam's wound, stop the bleeding, otherwise there's no hope. If he's honest, though, he's not sure there's any in the first place.

"Kinda hard to relax," Sam replies, voice croaky, and he tries a smile. There's blood in his mouth, and Peter feels burning behind his eyes, a dam of tears threatening to spill through, but he can't allow that right now. "I don't even know how he got my helmet off me. I'm so--"

"No," Peter cuts him off, pressing down on Sam's wound, with his hands. He shaky, and so is Sam as he sets his hands over Peter's. "You don't have to be sorry. And you're not stupid. You're not weak. You are _strong_ and you're going to be _okay_." He's more so trying to convince himself of this now, and Sam has this _look_ on his face, like he _knows_ that, and he _knows_ how bad off he is. Peter can't help the little sob that escapes him.

There's _so much blood_. It won't stop _coming_ , it won't stop gushing all over them even as Peter applies pressure and _prays_ for it to stop, _prays_ for Sam to be okay. He's too good. He's too good to be taken away from this world, he can't be taken away right now. He's saved the universe; he doesn't deserve this.

"Peter," Sam says, and he looks calmer than earlier--but more frightened. Of course he is, though. Nobody as young as him is prepared for death, even in their line of work. You expect you'll be fine, that everybody you know and care about will be, but deep down, you know that's not true. And when the truth comes to light in moments like these, you realize how _dangerous_ your ignorance truly was.

Peter only now realizes he's crying, sobbing. And so is Sam, looking sad beyond his years, scared and sad and in _pain_ but calm all the same. He's crying, and Peter never wanted to see that. He doesn't want to see the tears streaming down his cheeks, doesn't want to see that single stream of blood roll down his chin as he coughs.

"I love you," Sam tells him, his voice quiet. "I love you so much. Jesus, I just--I wanted to give you everything, and maybe I could have, maybe--"

"You still can," Peter insists, and this only makes Sam squeeze his eyes shut, and he sobs, choking on his own blood again. "You're fine, you're fine. I swear to God, you'll be okay, I'll do whatever it takes, okay? I love you. I love you." Peter takes Sam's hand, and holds it up so that it's pressed up against Peter's chest, over his heart. " _I love you_."

He leans his forehead against Sam's, even as the younger man cries and chokes and says he loves him too, that he always will. The blood is drying on their hands and in Sam's mouth and Peter refuses to let himself believe that Sam's actually dying. He won't die.

"Marry me," Peter whispers, as Sam's tears slow down, his whole body slows down. It seems like the worst time for things to start slowing down; why couldn't have they been slower earlier, when Peter actually could have done something? Why does it always have to be like this? Why do people, people he _loves_ , have to die?

Sam nods. "Yeah. Yeah," he answers, smiling up at Peter, even though he still looks so sad, so broken. Because he knows he won't actually get to marry Peter. "Of course, Pete."

And just then, Falcon swoops down. "Time to get him help," he tells Peter, and everything suddenly fast again. It only takes a second for Falcon to leave with Sam and Peter's left sitting there, every inch of him aching and broken.

Because Falcon's carrying a boy who just took his last breath.


End file.
